


A Call To Inferno

by Yurutono



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project, Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, Fallen Angel!Nozomi, Gen, Love Live! Sunshine!! character, One Shot, there are no proper tags for sunshine characters rip, why did i put yohane in this??, why not?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6569002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yurutono/pseuds/Yurutono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fallen angel was sealed in the seventh outer ring of Inferno many years ago, so when will she grow tired of her suffering, and request to be unsealed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Call To Inferno

“Darkness falls where light has fled…”

Heels clacked along the cobbled stone path, a soft giggle puncturing the still silence of the air.

“But will light rise again to reclaim its bed?”

A hooded figure strode confidently through the streets, illuminated only by flickering lights and the glaring of the full moon.

“And if it does, does darkness fight? Or will light force it to take flight?”

The girl's breath became mist in the air, amusing and pleasing her to a childish extent, but she was certainly no child mentally.

“But what use are theories when I can simply test? After all, this is my mistress's request.”

She skipped in a jubilant fashion towards the graveyard on the outskirts of town. Everyone always wondered what a strange person she was to venture out there nigh every week, no matter the rain, the snow, the cold, nor the bad aura the place held. A place where the dead did rest was no place anyone wanted to go as a regular occurrence.

Her fabled to be crazed mutterings were rarely heard properly by some. But when they were, they caused a start. No one truly knew who she was, where she lived and why she was even here. But any time anyone had attempted to tail her or talk to her, she would simply disappear, be it in the blink of an eye or around the corner. She spoke to and for herself, and only then.

However, there was one exception. Oftentimes, she visited the coffee shop, ordering the same light roast coffee every time. Because no one tended to ask questions, people simply assumed the girl ran off caffeine alone.

“If one must be sacrificed for one greater to come back, then that is how it must be. How could anyone not see?”

She pushed the wailing gate open, not that anyone had any plans to replace it or oil the hinges. The haze of the light from the town was long behind her, but she could make out faint outlines of rocks and graves before she flicked on the low power torch for a small line of visibility. Tripping over would completely spoil the mood.

She trod over the dirt path carefully, as if one wrong move would cause vengeful spirits and reanimated corpses to rise and descend upon her, but it seemed mostly to be out of respect. She shucked the shovel on her shoulder off, fiddling with the handle and dragging it along the path, as though bored of carrying it sensibly, yet she still carried the bag properly.

“The bones of the good to summon a being of evil. But evil is subjective, after all, so maybe I should look at this as a simple retrieval?”

She paused and skidded her foot along the path, kicking up a batch of dust and driving the tip of her shovel into the ground, she knelt down carefully, only to see an ethereal white lily appear on the small tufts of grass that had began to grow over the top of the piled on soil. The lily was just about transparent, and she could read the engraving on the stone:

_‘Here lies Eli Ayase,_  
Beloved to all and sacred high priestess,  
Answered the call of Paradiso on June 24th, 2016.’ 

The girl couldn’t help but manage a smirk. She had of course, known of Ayase and her work at the church. But perhaps the ‘beloved to all’ statement was exaggerated. She wasn’t beloved to her, the hooded figure thought, so maybe she should blot out that lie. But as the lily faded into nothingness, she was reminded of her task. 

It hadn’t been too long since the priestess died, perhaps a year or less ago. Her coffin had been enchanted in such a way to release her soul from the cage of flesh and bone, and save the rather undignified rotting, by dissolving the skin as soon as it was in the ground, which would certainly make her job a lot easier.

But there was also something else about the priestess; how she had gained her status amongst the church was by taking a large risk and demonstrating knowledge, power and bravery, that maybe some would see as unnecessary as a servant of God. The girl didn’t just simply dislike Ayase for some redundant reason or just disliking her for the sake of it, but it was what she did.

But the lily marking her grave told her what she needed to do. Her mistress had outdone herself, instructing her to use these specific bones with what little unchained power she still held. With a coy smirk, she brushed her hair back into her hood and began to dig into the grave, dumping the soil until she hit the strong, elegant wooden coffin below ground; evening out her digging space until she could yank the lid open and take what she needed.

Greeted by a sight of sheen, white bones, free of rot, dirt and decay, she sighed as her breath misted, but it quickly turned into a giggle as she began to grasp the bones and toss them into the bag, no doubt breaking the enchantment as she did so, and when she had gathered them all up, she unceremoniously hoisted the bag up, drawing the string. 

Setting her bag down on the ground above, she carefully shut the lid of the coffin with as little of a sound as she could muster, beginning to pile the soil above it again. She didn’t want to reveal she was here in the morning, but by then, she knew it would be too late for anyone to act. It was merely a precaution.

“The priestess chained her with little mercy, I do believe I should cause this town a little controversy.”

She began to make her way back, torch in mouth, bag slung over her shoulder as the bones inside clacked quietly with every single step and the shovel dragging along the dirt again. She was thankful that essentially everyone was inside and asleep, as of the recent festival many of the people had gotten drunk, or been so busy throughout the entire day that they had gone to bed early. She and her mistress had had planned this for many months, designed to coincide with the festival.

It marked the anniversary of her mistress's defeat. The anniversary of when she had been chained and greatly reduced in power. But it would soon mean something more, it would mean her breaking free of her confines.

But with her little power, her mistress struggled and strained to communicate, before being forced to cut off frequently, so it had taken some time to come up with a coherent plan. But the girl was patient and she had a large role in their grand scheme. 

“But why stop there after this town is in our power? Perhaps we should extend our reach by the hour?”

Soon she re-entered the town, her shovel grinding against the uneven cobblestones in a horrible plethora of noises, but she had little to worry about. As no one came out to hear what the sounds were, she smiled to herself.

The girl made her way towards her abode, yet it wasn’t the typical house for a person to live in. Rather, an entranceway cloaked via a ritual. No one had seen her enter or leave, so it had remained hidden. Whispering a hushed incantation to herself, the trapdoor rippled into view and she slipped down inside, making sure to re-cloak the entrance. 

It was dark within the room, save for a few candles and living essentials. She didn’t mind living in the darkness, even if her skin was paled from the lack of sunlight. Some rather eccentric townspeople insisted she was a vampire, but there was no evidence of these claims. She slipped off her hood and cloak, draping it onto her bed and instead approaching a chalk circle surrounded by various symbols and half melted candles. 

Stopping just at the boundary of the circle, she steadied her hands and raised her palm after placing the bag on the ground beside her, sliding a ceremonial dagger out of the sheath on her belt with her other hand, pricking her finger with the sharp point, just enough to let a single drop of blood fall onto the chalk, and in a flash, a bright haze burst from the circle and began to bleed into the symbols.

As the haze settled, the dark purple aura pulsed regularly, black wisps flicking off of it into the air, only to dissipate almost immediately.

“My, my, I can see everything's gone well,” A disembodied voice rang out into the room, appearing to originate from the circle, “Good job.”

The girl nodded and replied, dropping her rhythmic speech, “Thank you, mistress… Priestess Ayase’s bones are safe and intact and I could detect no one watching me.”

She could feel the venom suddenly enter the voice at her mention of the priestess, letting out a bittersweet laugh, “Priestess Ayase… You served as an instrument of my sealing… I wonder how it will be to assist in my unshackling. I will make sure your soul in Paradiso feels it,” She snarled.

“Shall we begin, mistress?”

“Of course,” She spoke, somewhat curtly, but the girl supposed if she had been chained up somewhere in Inferno to be tormented, she would become a little bit surly as well.

She placed the bag in the middle of the circle, it quickly becoming engulfed in the haze, noting the purple flames licking over it and burning, revealing the sheen of bones for a moment before those were enveloped in the aura as well.

Her mistress's voice spoke next, beginning the unshackling ritual, “I have been bound by toil and blood, tears and suffering on a cross for my deeds, but by power sealed within, I demand my bindings be broken.”

“And by my blood, my eternal mistress will walk the earth again, through thunder, lightning, or in rain.” 

The tear above the circle pulsed and ripped open a little bit more as if it were mere paper and a black hand or two attempted to claw its way through it, before they were harshly yanked away from their salvation. Unperturbed, the girl held out her finger again, allowing another drop of blood to fall, the tear violently twisting and opening further.

“By the bones of the one that sealed me, who no longer holds any power, why should I remain bound by the deeds of the deceased?” Shrill sounds tore through the portal, presumably because she was amidst souls of the damned. It wasn’t very often beings broke out of the underworld after all.

She had been banished to the seventh circle of Inferno, or just simply hell as many lazily referred to it as. Although she could have been sent to the inner ring, Ayase had rather cruelly sent her to the outer ring. Submerged in boiling blood and fire, her mistress had suffered for years, but the girl didn’t know the true extent of what she’d had to endure. And she hoped she would never had to endure it herself at all. 

As the tear slowly began to rip open further to reveal what was inside, she brought her mind back, if only for a moment, to how she’d been reached out to. To that particular day. She had made sure to treasure those memories, not forgetting a single detail. 

She had always put stock in the occult, eventually turning her back on God, despite her belief in him. Belief and worship were two different things after all. She saw too much in the world, too much pain and misery and yet he just stayed in the heavens. He watched the world crumble. Wars, famine, evil and all he did was send them to Inferno when they’d finished with their life. 

But the punishers were always seen as the bad ones, whereas in the stories they were intended to be testers and tempters to put beside people’s faith. If anything, they were the true workers of the universe. She didn’t necessarily worship them, but she had a different view on them from most folks, so she became a shut-in after moving towns, making sure no one knew who she was.

She remembered the voice that had called out to her at night. One that had cut off multiple times and was extremely strained, as if holding back screams. She remembered exactly what she’d addressed her as as well. 

_Yohane_.

She had thought it was strange, close enough to her real name, but not quite close enough. It became a moniker to her, until she decided to drop her actual name, because no one truly needed to know it and no one did anyway. As the story between her and her mistress grew, she accepted her and the one in Inferno had in return. Yoshiko was forgotten and Yohane had been officially christened, but most certainly not by God.

As her mind transitioned back to the task at hand, she realised that she had only ever seen small flashes of her mistress, but she had never been able to make out her face and the chains wrapping over her body, vaguely managing to note the blood drenching her. 

The instability of the tear suddenly caused it to burst open properly, leaving a moderately sized rip through the different worlds. It stabilized itself and boiling blood slowly began to pour onto the stone floor, sizzling and evaporating in the circle at intermittent times.

In nearly full view in the tear, she saw a woman, chained to a cross with nails through her hands, dried blood and rust smearing and covering the chains. She looked tired, yet somehow youthful, having not being able to sleep in such a tortuous fashion. Her head lolled as she slowly opened her eyes to face Yohane, blinking lethargically before a smirk formed on her face and a light laugh escaped her lips and her glowing green eyes glinted.

“I’m finally able to see you properly, Yohane-chan,” She twisted slightly, wincing as the chains dug into her and her ribcage ached and stung with violent bouts of pain, “I’ve been ever so patient.”

Bowing to her suffering mistress, Yohane eventually straightened up properly, not being able to keep a grin off of her own face, “We both have, mistress. I’m glad I finally get to see you.”

Inhaling slowly, she leant her head against the wood of the cross, her disheveled hair rubbing up against it and despite the numerous knots, dried blood and singed, blackened areas Yohane could still make out the dark purple at certain points which had somehow escaped the punishment, “So, are you ready to break me out?”

Nodding carefully, Yohane brought her eyes to the gilded and pristine padlock glowing with some kind of light blue essence, that was as if Ayase had dedicated a part of her very soul to locking her away, but she doubted that it would be particularly strong because of the distance between Paradiso and Inferno was so great. It shouldn’t be difficult to break.

Yohane then stepped into the circle, the purple gladly welcoming her and, making sure she didn’t step on any of the bones, she raised her hand to the padlock, giving it a careful touch before flinching back. It was a scalding temperature, likely not just from the boiling river around the purple haired woman, but also from the holiness, but she knew she had to do this. 

Swallowing, she grasped the lock firmly with both hands, squeezing her eyes shut as the heat attacked her, burning and stinging at her skin, a warning for her to wrench her hands away. But, fighting against all of her bodily instincts to move away from the pain, she felt glowing green eyes on her, suddenly feeling a slight surge as her hands pulsed with a gray aura, running off into the padlock and forcing the light blue to recede and break, before the lock seamlessly clicked open, allowing Yohane to pull it off, dropping it to the ground and nursing her horribly burnt hands.

Panting quietly and struggling to move her hands properly, Yohane looked up to see the chains slowly beginning to crumple and shrink into itself, the links breaking quickly and soon all that was left keeping her on the cross was the nails in her body and feet.

“You're almost finished,” The fallen angel in front of her reassured, “I'll heal your wounds when I enter. I promise you.” There was a hint of tenderness in her voice Yohane hadn't expected. But she remembered through her burning hands that she was not a demon consumed by hatred and bound to Inferno, but a fallen angel still capable of thinking and feeling, despite her harsh punishment for turning out this way and no longer bound to Paradiso.

Yohane flexed her hands before she crouched down before the nails embedded in her feet. Laying her hands upon them, she began to twist and pull at the rusty nails before they loosened and she yanked them out with a jolt, a few audible gasps of pain and a sigh of relief released above her. Letting them fall to the ground with resounding clatters, she rose to deal with the ones on her hands in a similar fashion. As she pulled out the one on her right hand, her mistress propped herself up on the cross with her now released arm and featured Yohane away, who obeyed without a word.

Twisting around and ignoring the multiple stabs of pain sent at her, she pulled the last nail out and fell through the tear onto the ground before Yohane who hurried to help her by kneeling in front of her, a little bit fearful to put her hands on her. Eventually, she was helped up, slightly shaky on her own legs.

“Cold stone…” She murmured, running her hands through foul hair, “It's been far too long.” She squeezed her hands into a fist, feeling the holes caused by the nails to slowly begin to heal and seal up, a mark that she was released and free to use the power formerly locked away inside her. She brought her attention towards her loyal subject, who had come this far to help her. And yet they had so much more left to do.

Yohane was still knelt down in front of her, and the fallen angel realised why. She was standing officially in her presence and was acting as such, which she smiled at such an endearing act, “Stand, Yohane-chan.” The girl swallowed and complied.

“Give me your hands. They painful, aren't they?” Putting aside her years of suffering, she took her hands in her own, closing her eyes and feeling a surge of power she had missed so much, and soon, Yohane’s hands were completely free of pain. Stunned at such a feat, Yohane bowed her head.

“Thank you, Mistress Tojo…”

“All of this ‘mistress' business… Now that you have released me and proven your worth, I ask that you call me Nozomi,” With a playful smirk, Nozomi let go of her hands as she watched the tear wane and push itself back together as if it were never there, the purple haze on the circle fading and a pile of ash was present where the bag of bones had formerly laid.

“O-of course, Nozomi.” Yohane nodded as Nozomi kicked through the ashes with little care in the world.

“Do you have a bath? I could use one.”

“Yes, it's just through there,” Yohane gestured and Nozomi walked through.

A few minutes later, she returned, devoid of blood stains, dirt in her hair and having thoroughly sorted out her appearance and tied her hair into low twintails, she brought her gaze towards Yohane, who was finishing redrawing the circle as the chalk had been faded and kicked around by the ritual.

“Our work begins tomorrow, Yohane-chan.” She combed her hands through her hair as she approached her, “The festival will not be a happy place for the townspeople.”

Nodding, Yohane paused for a second, “Nozomi… Do you think Ayase felt it?”

With a venomous laugh, Nozomi grinned, “Oh, I absolutely know she did. She was screaming in Paradiso. Pain is not something to be felt up there, so when we gave it to her… It was satisfying. Now then,” She placed a hand on Yohane's shoulder, “You should rest. You've done well, I tell you.”

Suddenly aware of her fatigue, Yohane nodded with a small grunt. “Thank you…” Soon collapsing into bed, Nozomi took the nearest book from the shelf she could find, flicking it open to kill some time, she glossed over the title. _Inkheart_.

“You'll need the power of rest in the morning, Yohane-chan. There is so much more left to do…”

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little one shot drabble I wanted to do. Dropped in a Sunshine character and used Nozomi as a fallen angel, because why not? I don't think I'll write anything more on this unless I come up with something proper for it, but I hope this just kinda amused you. I enjoyed writing it is all I can say, she says, typing on her phone at 1:36am when she should be sleeping. Ah, writing at these times is so fun. Also, fun fact: If you look into it, crucifixion is one of, if not the most painful methods of death devised by mankind. And Nozomi was put through years of it. Ouch.


End file.
